UKIP and Cosmopolitanism

He, an Egyptian, an auxiliary;

She, secret- keeper for the Dobunni,

Had arranged to meet by the sacred oak,


Sheltered and hidden from keen Roman eyes

By dense, dark woods of smooth barked beech.

He, a skilled boatman from the River Nile,


And now, deserter from the garrison


At Kingsholm; beaten, whipped, lashed and abused


By officers for drunken amusement,

Found silent sympathy, trust and love


From this mute young woman at the wine shop;

She, like him, violated just for fun


And entertainment - forced to play the fool,

Was also a skilled, rehearsed dissembler,

For inside that apparently dumbstruck


Mind was mysterious Druidic lore,


Hidden safe within a tribal dreamscape.

She, beyond Roman suspicion and law,


Led him by the hand, as the red sun's rays


Sank behind the high shrine to Mercury;


She, night-navigator of marshland paths,


She, sure-footed through the night-rustling forest;


They, sheltered and sleeping through the daylight hours,

They, slipping unseen past messenger posts,


Up the eastern scarp, then down to the river.

He, Nile-native, expert boatman, stared west

Across the Severn to the Silures -

Their boat eased its way with gentle paddle


Across that broad swathe of dangerous water,

Until exhausted, they breathed freedom.

Three centuries later, loyal-subjects,

Their children’s lineage, dark-skinned Britons,

Were destined to fight for Rome and Glevum

Against Anglo-Saxon invading migrants,

Who steadily renamed the landscape.